Green Eyed Monster
by GreyJedi
Summary: It was Ulki's constant visiting that finally set him off. He couldn't bear to have the hawk touch what should have always been his and his alone.


How to say "I'm an English Major" in one easy step. 1. Name a fanfiction after a line from a Shakespeare play. Volia! See, it's clever cause a green eyed monster is symbolic of jealousy and Rolf's eyes are gre- You know what? Just read it.

Also, line-break abuse ahead!

All characters and Fire Emblem elements belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems.

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><p>Every touch burned. Every adoring look left a scar upon his very being. With each kiss, a little more of his soul withered away. It was wrong; he felt it in every fibre of his being. It ate at him like a parasite, gnawing away, slowly but steadily with an insatiable appetite, always hungry. It chewed up his innards and spat them back out, laughing at his pain.<p>

It got steadily worse every time, slipping into remission only when denial allowed, coming back stronger than ever when it didn't. How he hated it.

It should have been him

Him. Not that carrion-eating sub-human. He should've been the one there at night, pressed flesh to flesh against that warm body, stealing kisses in the dark. But no, fate, it seemed, had other plans.

He didn't like fate. His mentor had taught him not to rely on it, that fate was a cruel mistress. A whore, luring him in with silky words and promises only to leave him cold and naked, tied to the bed with his wallet gone. He'd never asked about that particular metaphor.

This time though, _this time_, fate wouldn't have her way with him. He was the master of his own domain. And there was something in his domain that needed getting rid of.

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><p>Rhys gazed at the hawk, smiling wistfully. The autumn wind blew his hair about his face and made his snowy robes ripple and billow around him.<p>

"I wish we could have this all the time," he said. "You and me. Us. Together like this."

Ulki's hand found his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "But would we know how precious this time is otherwise?"

The priest chuckled. "Of course we would. We'd just have a different appreciation for it."

"If you say so."

"I do." Rhys' hand snaked around Ulki's neck and pulled him close for a kiss. "I love you."

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><p>"I don't get it," he said, green eyes staring out the window, watching Rhys and the sub-human interact, watching that damn bird steal what should have only ever been his.<p>

"Don't get _what_?"

It should have been easier to talk about than this. It was _Mist_. They'd been together through everything. The three of them had always been there to look out for each other. If there was anyone he could talk about this with, it was her.

"Rhys."

She froze mid-motion, half scrubbed potato in her hands. "Rhys?" she asked. "What's there not to get about him?"

"Him and Ulki." He turned and looked at Mist. "I just don't see what the appeal is."

She shrugged. "You don't have to see it. As long as they're happy, what difference does it make?"

It made a world of difference. That difference was everything that he hated about the world. He sighed, turning back to the window. "I guess it doesn't." He heard Mist resume her scrubbing of the potato. "But why _Ulki_?"

Again, the potato cleaning stopped, this time he heard the tuber hit the bottom of the basin. Good. Now she wouldn't be distracted. "That's a bit of a dumb question, isn't it?" she asked. "All you have to do is see how happy he makes Rhys to see _why_ Ulki. Honestly, Rolf, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were jealous."

He forced a laugh. "Me? Jealous? Never." Jealous of a filthy sub-human… It should've been below him. But it wasn't. It wasn't, because that _stupid hawk_ had his hands and lips all over someone they had no business being on. And Rhys – pure, untainted Rhys – put up with it, _allowing_ that disgusting bird to do as he pleased. It was wrong, plain and simple.

"I don't understand what's bothering you."

"It's just that Ulki's a-" He tripped over the next word, barely stopping himself from uttering 'sub-human' to Mist. She wouldn't have accepted his use of the term.

"A man?" she suggested. "I don't see why _that_ would bother you. I mean, we've known about Rhys for ages."

He looked over his shoulder at her. Mist was watching him critically. "Actually I was _going_ to say laguz." A lie, but a small one.

Mist sighed. "I thought we were past all this. There's no crime in laguz and beorc being together. You know that. Now," she put her hands on her hips, clearly doing her best to look imposing, "are you going to stand there, or will you give me a hand with dinner?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "I guess I can give you some help. After all, your cooking needs all the help it can get."

Mist smacked him. But not very hard.

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><p>Dinner was torture. But then it always was whenever that damn bird was around. The way he and Rhys would make eyes at each other and kiss at the table. It did nothing but inflame his rage. Every time that Rhys would submit to that sort of treatment… it drove him mad. How could he do such a thing? It would have been entirely different if he were in Ulki's place, if he were the one at the receiving end of Rhys' adoring looks. But he wasn't. And as long as that goddessdamned hawk lived, he never would be.<p>

This time, he couldn't even try to talk to Mist about it; Boyd had decided that he would help her with the dishes and it simply wasn't something he could discuss with his brother around. Particularly not Boyd. Especially not around Mist _and_ Boyd at the same time. Unfortunately this meant he lacked a mild distraction. It wasn't that he _liked_ helping with the dishes, per se, but if he didn't have to see that feathered freak putting his disgusting hands all over the holy vessel that was Rhys' body, then he was glad for chores. But soon, soon he wouldn't need to worry about anything like that. Soon it would all be over. Soon he'd have Rhys all to himself.

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><p>It was too dark for Ulki to see in Rhys' quarters, a fact which – in the laguz's opinion – Rhys found altogether too amusing.<p>

"Rhys, this isn't funny." The saint was giggling somewhere to his left, but the sound was rather muffled as though he had his hands over his mouth. Ulki turned towards the source of the noise. "Rhys, really." He had his hands out, feeling the air in front of him.

Rhys took pity on him and then his fingers were wrapped around Ulki's left hand, pulling the hawk towards him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh." There was still a damned grin in his voice. "It's just… Well it's interesting. All it takes is a little darkness and you're totally lost."

"It is a failing of the bird tribes. I cannot help it." Ulki couldn't help smiling as Rhys' lips brushed against his cheek.

"I know. But you have ways of making up for it." He nuzzled Ulki's neck, kissing him. "I mean, in all the years I've known you, you've never been sick once."

Ulki chuckled. "Laguz do not take ill as easily as beorc."

"Particularly not _this_ beorc," Rhys said with a touch of bitterness. Even in the dark, Ulki knew he looked troubled. He always did when he spoke of his constant illnesses.

"It is hardly within your control." Ulki released Rhys' hands and fumbled for a moment before finding the saint's shoulder and squeezing it. "You do quite well for yourself." He could hear the smile simply from the way Rhys' breathing changed. Arms snaked around the laguz's neck and fingers threaded through his hair. Then, lips were brushing and parting and it was simply _Rhys_.

"Thank you, Ulki."

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><p>He had to get this exactly right. There wouldn't be a second chance. He couldn't miss. He <em>wouldn't<em> miss. He gripped his bow so hard it hurt. His quiver was full and he'd soaked every arrowhead in venin, saturated them to the point where the violet colouration nearly overpowered the actual colour of the arrowheads. There was no way he could screw up. Nothing could go wrong.

He'd left early that morning; before anyone else was up, right before the sun began to rise, the sky barely lightening on the horizon. His path had led him south-south-west, the path that the sub-human would take to get home. He'd watched his and Rhys' farewells enough to know roughly what direction to take. And he'd need the head start.

How long he'd walked, he couldn't quite say, but the sun was well overhead before he saw the sub-human. He was flying higher in the sky than he'd been anticipating, but that didn't matter. He was still within range. It didn't appear that the sub-human was in a rush, gliding through the air as he was, flapping his wings only once every so often. Dimly, in the back of his mind, Rolf wondered if Ulki was enjoying himself up there. It would be the last flight he ever had.

It was all going perfectly. Until a dry branch snapped underfoot. Far up in the sky as he was, he'd never expected the hawk to hear such a small sound, even with his supposedly amazing hearing, but he saw the great bird wheel around. He heard the hawk's cry, so similar to its smaller, purely beast, cousins. He knew that he had to do it now. Do it now or risk losing the chance. Risk being found. Risk losing everything.

The hawk had stopped flying and stayed flapping in place, head tilting slightly as he scanned the woods below. Rolf drew two arrows from his quiver and set them carefully against his bow. One clean motion, no hesitation. The arrows shot from the bow, straight and true. He smirked slightly as he saw the hawk jerk from the hits. Again he heard the hawk's screech. He fitted another arrow. He was too close to fail now.

Three was all it took.

It looked like the hawk tried to dodge the shot, but the venin was fast acting, quickly sapping his strength and speed. The third arrow was just as true as its predecessors. The bird's powerful wings folded, his final cry broken off midway and he plummeted. The trees shook, boughs bent and strained, and branches snapped as the hawk tumbled through them. He landed with a muffled thump on the forest floor.

Rolf drew a fourth arrow and approached cautiously. The bird was still twitching, feathers and wings bend at odd angles, a stain of blood growing from beneath the downed avian. He wasn't dead. Not yet. Dying, certainly. But not yet there. He could just stand there. Stand there and watch the life slowly bleed from the creature. Watch it wheeze and choke, hear the death rattle in every breath. See the venin work its magic, draining what little remained of the hawk's life.

But that would be foolish.

He hefted the arrow in his hand and stepped forward. He drove it deep into Ulki's back, snarling. He twisted the shaft a few times for good measure and ripped the arrow out. Droplets of blood splattered around, following the arc of the removed arrow. He wiped the blood off his face with his sleeve.

Perfect.

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><p>Rhys was outside when he noticed the black speck in the sky. It seemed large, far larger than any of the local birds and was approaching from the direction of Phoenicis. He raised a hand to shield his eyes as the figure in the sky flew nearer. It couldn't be Ulki back so soon, it wouldn't make sense. He'd have barely gotten home before turning around to come back to Crimea. It was possible, however unlikely. But it certainly looked like a hawk was coming his way. And if not a hawk, then surely one of Kilvas' ravens.<p>

He never would have guessed it would be Janaff. Tibarn's right hand man shifted from his avian form as he landed. He examined the surrounding area a little before looking at Rhys. The healer had already begun to walk over, but before he could properly greet the hawk, Janaff spoke.

"Rhys, you're looking well. That's good. Thought you might've been sick or something. Now… Where's Ulki? It's about time he headed back to Phoenicis."

The saint's confusion must've shown on his face because Janaff almost instantly lost his characteristic grin.

"What do you mean?" Rhys asked, anxious knot settling in the pit of his stomach. Ulki had left days ago…

Janaff scowled. "I mean Ulki's not home. I told Tibarn he'd probably just lost track of what day it was and needed a bit of a reminder. Then he said that that's really something I'd be more likely to do – which I certainly would _not_. Offensive that he'd even suggest-"

"But Ulki left almost five days ago." Rhys bit his lower lip as he spoke.

"Eh?"

The saint looked around as though hoping Ulki would magically appear, explain what had happened, and save him a lot of worrying. He didn't. "Something must have happened to him."

Rhys wasted no time in leading Janaff back to the fort. The sight of the hawk king's eyes easily lending strength to his fear. Janaff's arrival was as unexpected as the news that Ulki had apparently vanished. When Rhys announced that he was going to go find the hawk, whether or not he had help, it was a surprise to everyone when not only Janaff volunteered, but Shinon too. The marksman had shrugged, saying that it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

In the end, Rhys was glad that Shinon had come along. He was surprisingly good at tracking, but then Shinon was good at _everything_ he did. Janaff flew over top of them, ever vigilant. Occasionally, the laguz would alight on a tree branch to share some small tidbit of information with Shinon, but these times were rare. When the sun started to set, Rhys feared that they would have to stop for the night to accommodate Janaff; it was only when Janaff scoffed at the notion that the saint recalled just how keen his sight was.

Twilight had come before they found anything. At first it was just a dark shape, it easily could have been a log and in the dim light it was even harder to tell. It was likely that Rhys would have kept on walking except that Shinon stopped so abruptly that the saint ran into him. And then Rhys managed to pick out exactly _what_ that shape was.

Shinon threw out a hand to stop Rhys, but it came too late. Even as his fingers brushed against Rhys's chest, the saint was drawing in a horrified breath. Then his hand was being pushed away, Rhys rushing to the brown, feathered mass on the ground.

Janaff settled on a tree branch near Shinon, squinting into the shadows.

"Oh no."

By the time Rhys had fallen to his knees next to the unmoving form, tears were already streaming down his cheeks. Trembling hands reached out to the feathery mass, then withdrew, hesitating. After another moment, he placed his hands on the body, fingers trailing over the oily feathers, feeling the broken bones beneath flesh.

"How, Ulki? How did this happen to you?" Rhys choked back a sob, one hand withdrawing to cover his mouth. He drew a shuddering breath between his fingers, and then coughed as he fought his tears. Fingers shaking visibly he reached out and stroked the head of the once magnificent hawk. "You didn't even manage to shift back…" His fingers trailed slowly over the laguz's closed eyes, traced the hard curve of his powerful beak, dug into the feathers between his eyes. "Ulki…" He shook his head, tears dripping from his jaw onto the lifeless body before him.

They had always known that their love would be extremely uneven; it was a simple, inescapable fact given what it was. Rhys had never, _never_ thought that he would survive Ulki. That somehow made it worse.

His sobs gave way to barking, violent coughs and it was then that Shinon intervened. When exactly the marksman had walked over was a bit of a mystery to Rhys, but he became acutely aware of his presence when Shinon grabbed him under the arms and hauled him to his feet. This was followed by the marksman half walking, half carrying the saint over to Janaff's tree where he told the hawk to take Rhys home and that he would catch up later.

Shinon waited until Janaff and Rhys were gone before he slunk back over to Ulki's body, eyes on the ground. There were Rhys' footprints in the grass, but it seemed that both the priest and the forest life had ruined any sign of what may have killed the hawk. Still, there was the blood that had soaked into the grass, and it was a better starting point than none at all.

Sighing, he reached below the hawk's wing joints and flipped the carcass over. There, it became obvious what had killed him. His feathers were matted and crusted with solidified blood around three arrow wounds, pieces of shaft still protruding from the points of impact. The snapped off ends of the shafts lay on the ground by Shinon's feet and he bent to retrieve one. He examined the broken piece in his hand, then looked at Ulki's body and back again, his mouth set in a hard line.

He picked up the other two broken arrows and looked at them. Hard. Shinon turned them over in his hands and glared at the fletching on each in turn. There was no mistaking it.

"You little bastard."

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><p>He knew that he was in trouble when Shinon pulled him aside. The normally impassive marksman seemed irritated. Not uncommon, but years spent under Shinon's tutelage had allowed him to know the man's emotions far better than most. That barest hint of emotion spoke volumes; he was in trouble. Lots of trouble.<p>

"I know what you did."

"I've done nothing wrong."

It earned him a backhand slap across the face. He was stunned for a moment, holding his cheek, green eyes staring at Shinon in bewilderment as the marksman rubbed his reddened knuckles.

"Bullshit."

Rolf wiped at the corner of his mouth with his hand, watching his former teacher.

"What made you do it?" Shinon's tone wasn't angry, but neither was it his calm indifference. Rolf realized, with a mild jolt, that he couldn't pinpoint the emotion.

He smiled. "It had to be done. The sub-human was disrupting everything."

Shinon shook his head, red ponytail following the motion. It was just like when he'd begun learning under Shinon. It was what he did whenever Rolf had managed to disappoint him. How odd. "Rhys will never forgive you."

"What Rhys doesn't know, won't hurt him."

Shinon scowled. "He deserves the truth."

For the first time, he felt a flicker of fear at his action. "You're not going to tell him, are you?"

The marksman's eyes were hard. It was the look he used to give Rolf during his lessons, the one that meant the task he had in mind wasn't optional. He shook his head. "I'm not. You are."

"What? But Uncle Shinon-!"

Again he was slapped. Harder this time. The force of Shinon's palm connecting snapped his head to the side and left a strong sting in his cheek. This time, Shinon didn't even react to the pain the action had surely caused him.

"You're too old to keep spouting that nonsense." Shinon reached out and dragged him forward by the front of his tunic. "Now you get to go explain yourself."

It was downright confusing. Shinon had always made his sentiments towards the sub-humans clear. But this, _this_ just didn't add up. It was as though the disgusting bird's constant visits had done something to change his mind about the whole thing. But that couldn't be it. Shinon simply didn't change his attitudes so easily. It had been years since Greil's death, years since Soren and Ike had left the mercenaries and he _still_ held a grudge against Ike. So why did this seem to have him so rattled?

He hadn't done anything wrong. Surely if anyone was going to understand this, it would be Shinon. So why didn't his master seem able to fathom it? Why was his expression ever so slightly disgusted?

* * *

><p>"You…?" Rhys had a look rather like he'd just taken a hand axe to the ribs. "You," he repeated. "No…" Rolf stood with Rhys at the base of a hill, a little ways away from the mercenaries' fort. The young marksman had brought him here to talk. And confess. "No... Rolf, you couldn't have…" A hand pressed to his mouth as he fought back a gasp. "You…you <em>did<em>…" There was a _look _in Rolf's eyes. Not one that he could control, but a look just the same. He'd watched those eyes grow harder and tougher ever since that first battle at Port Toha, but they looked different now. They were eyes that had seen cold-blooded murder.

"I had to. Rhys, I'm sorry."

Rhys shook his head, staring at Rolf. "No. No, you're not." His grief-stricken look was changing to one of horror. "I see no remorse in you." Wind blew his coppery hair about his face but he didn't seem to notice. "Rolf, _why_?" The marksman said nothing. His green eyes were fixed upon Rhys, but there was no sign that he'd was about to offer any explanation for his actions. "He never did anything to you. Rolf…how could you? Why?"

"I had to," he repeated.

"Just tell me why!"

He looked away. "I can't. You won't understand."

Rhys was gasping, every breath shuddering as he fought the tears audible in his voice. "I can't forgive you if you won't tell me why."

This was all wrong. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Rhys wasn't supposed to be mad at him. It didn't make sense. "I can't."

"Then may Ashera herself absolve you of what I cannot. May she show you the mercy that you have not given to others." The tears were falling by then, trailing from the saint's eyes and dripping off his chin as he made no attempt to hide them. His face was twisted with a mixture of anguish and fury. It was all so…so _backwards_. There was hatred burning in Rhys' eyes. His eyes that had always, _always_, been so open and accepting of everyone and everything, so loving… Such fury didn't suit them.

He stepped forward, hand outstretched to caress Rhys' cheek. The attempt was slapped away, Rhys glaring at him. The saint was shaking by then, hands trembling as they reached for the pouch hanging from his belt.

"Rhys…" He tried again, this time aiming to take his shaking hands. Just to hold them, run his thumbs soothingly across the pale skin and then slowly pull Rhys into his arms.

The saint took a few steps back, these few footfalls leading him slightly up the hill that hid the fort from view. "No. Don't." His hands were in the pouch now, gripping the book that he always kept close by. He continued to step back as he pulled the tome out. The sunlight fell across the cover. Shine. "Not a step closer."

Surely it was a bluff. Rhys wouldn't actually…

And then the saint was holding the book in his left hand, clutching the open tome to his chest. His right hand was raised. His eyes were hard as he began to speak. The light began to glow and form around Rolf, but he was too shocked to try and dodge.

Rhys was following through on his threat. He was actually going to…

The saint's hand dropped in a slashing motion, throwing it out to the side and twisting his body as he finished the spell. Rhys dissolved from Rolf's sight; Shine engulfed him.

He screamed and tried to cover his eyes. Tried to shield them in some way from the awful light, but it did no good. Shine's power penetrated his body, blazed through his very core. The light faded to reveal him hunched on the ground, hands pressed over his face, still screeching in agony. He tried to look up, but couldn't see anything but brilliant spots.

Still standing a mere ten paces before the young marksman was Rhys. He shook his head grimly, a single tear rolling down his face. He said nothing as he slipped Shine back into its pouch. Rhys lingered a moment longer before he turned and walked away, heading back towards the fort. He paused once at the top of the hill, looking towards the sky.

"Goddess, forgive me for what I have done."

He didn't look back.

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><p>I feel like I should explain this. But I don't really know how to without making myself sound insane. Also, I don't think I can write a story with Rolf as a key component without killing <em>something<em>. This is probably a problem.

Anyway... Thoughts?


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